Chatter
by pouncepounce
Summary: The Normandy crew chat about and discuss a variety of topics. Setting will be non-chronological and non-linear between chapters. Some chapters will be set in ME1, ME2 or ME3. Others will be set in between the games.
1. Chapter 1

"By the way, did you and Tali have a fight or something?" Shepard asked the turian sitting beside him.

Garrus looked stunned, but only for a moment. "Nope. What makes you ask?"

"I don't claim to be an expert in these things or anything like that, but to me it looks like you've been avoiding her for the past week or so."

"Oh yeah?"

"What do you mean 'Oh yeah'? What happened to mister 'I'm going to confess my undying love'?"

Garrus' mandibles fluttered wildly and he raised a talon in retort. "Okay, firstly, I was twelve drinks in by the time we were having that conversation, and secondly, maybe I've changed my mind since then."

"Bullshit you changed your mind. You act like a nervous little school boy when she's around. I know enough about subharmonics by now to be able to notice something so obvious. And it's fair enough. I mean, she's smart, funny, capable and those hips too."

"Extremely supportive," Garrus purred. "Don't let Jack hear you talk like that about another woman though. She'd kill you. Literally."

"Yeah and then the galaxy would go to total shit."

They shared a laugh, dryly.

"I still don't know what you see in that psychopath."

Shepard considered it for a moment. "I mean, yeah, she is a bit of a basket case, you're right. At the end of the day, though, I think we're all a little crazy. The galaxy's an insane place. Not too surprising that some of that _insanity_ manages to seep into its inhabitants."

"Real deep, Shepard. Too bad I know you well enough to recognize when you're talking out of your ass."

"You got me." The commander stuck his hands up into the air. "The real reason I'm with Jack is to satiate my masochistic desires. Too bad for you that _I_ also know you well enough when you're trying to derail the conversation."

Garrus shrugged. "Every shot's worth taking."

"So?"

"So what?"

"Why aren't you 'taking the shot' with Tali anymore?"

Garrus' hand came to his forehead out of instinct, but he straightened up again and looked out the window, facing away from his friend. "Honestly, what I have with her right now is good enough. Everything's falling apart, Shepard. Just about the only good thing I have left in this galaxy, I want to keep."

"And your way of holding on to what you find dearest," Shepard said slowly, as if he were talking to someone slow, "Is to keep your distance and alienate them? Good job, buddy. High distinction for Vakarian."

"Okay, maybe I've been a little too cautious, but you haven't seen what I've seen, down in the Wards."

"Oh, and what exactly _did_ you see down in the depths of hell that is the Citadel Wards?"

"All sorts of crap, but one particular incident comes to mind. Homicide case. Human couple. Husband kills wife in a marriage gone rotten. Stabs her in the back sixteen times with a kitchen knife and leaves our out on the floor to bleed to death. Man turned himself in and gave a full confession, and the reason he gave for the murder? Wife kept buying him the wrong kind of jam."

"Jam?"

"Yep. You'd probably know more about levo jam than I do, but you know how there's the type that has some hardened chunks of it mixed in with the otherwise smooth jam? And then there's the straight, 'smooth all the way' type of jam?" Garrus continued when the commander nodded. "Well, the husband wanted the chunky jam, but the wife, who didn't mind either, kept bringing home the smooth one because, apparently, she'd forget that there was a difference every time she went shopping."

"I think I know where you're going with this," Shepard interjected, "But surely you aren't comparing Tali to some insane guy who stabbed his wife over jam."

"No, but what I'm saying is that an otherwise normal couple was completely torn apart by something so mundane."

"Wrong. It's the exact _opposite_ of mundane. The husband didn't kill the wife because of jam, he killed her because of his own mental problems. Things like this happen all the time with couples and none of them end up like this."

"Well not none, right?"

"Same difference. The husband wouldn't have killed the wife if he was healthy in the head."

"Or, if his wife had catered to his needs, he wouldn't have lost his cool and gone nuts, despite his violent predisposition."

Shepard turned to his friend, less out of disbelief and more out of intrigue. "You know you're playing devil's advocate for a convicted murderer."

"Devil's what? I'm not making a case for him, if that's what you're implying. I was the one that made sure the damn bastard got a death sentence for what he did. I'm just raising the argument that if two people in a partnership don't make a good attempt to cater to each other's needs, then what kind of a couple are they and how long would it take for them to make that realization?"

"So basically, what you're saying in a long-winded way is that you don't think that you're good enough for her."

"That sounds about right."

"That sounds _pathetic_ , Garrus. Listen to yourself. Have some faith in the connection that you two share, take a leap. No one got anywhere in anything without taking some sort of a leap."

"Faith?"

"Yeah, faith. You have faith in your Spirits, right?"

Garrus chuckled. "In a _very_ loose sense, Shepard. It's more of a cultural thing these days, and besides, I don't stand to lose anything with my faith in the Spirits, whereas with Tali I risk compromising our friendship."

"On the other hand, your connection with her is actually _real_ , and you have empirical evidence to show for it. Case in point, you make each other happy. Isn't that enough?"

A lull in conversation as Garrus collected his thoughts. "Maybe."


	2. Chapter 2

Shepard sat at one of the circular tables in the mess hall aboard the SR2 with Garrus to his left and, an unusual addition, Mordin to his right.

"It's nice of you to join us at the table," Garrus said to the doctor, "You usually stay holed up in your lab."

"That's pretty rich coming from the misanthropic token turian," Shepard jabbed, as he shoveled another mouthful of Gardner's scrumptious meatballs.

Garrus chuckled. "I'll back down for now, Shepard. Wouldn't want you to get worked up and make those bright red scars on your face even _harder_ to look at."

"Oh, I don't think we want to get into facial deformities. I heard that it's a sensitive topic for a certain someone on board." Shepard stabbed another meatball onto his fork. He looked up from his plate to be met with the sight of a smiling Mordin.

"Came here to investigate," the doctor said.

"Investigate? Investigate what, exactly?"

"Typical conversational processes. Have been told my speech patterns can be unnatural, difficult to follow. Making an effort to amend."

"I see." Not having anything more to say, Shepard returned to attacking his meal.

A pause.

"So," Garrus started, "I've always wondered. You've said that Salarians don't mate as other species do, but how did it work in ancient times? I mean, sure, nowadays you have mating contracts, but surely it wasn't _always_ like that."

"Correct. There was a time when _even we_ relied on primal, sexual instincts to encourage mating."

"Boy, you make it sound clinical _and_ animalistic," Shepard muttered.

Mordin smiled. "Have always been a savagely precise people. Always will be."

"Then what were the characteristics considered to be attractive at the time?" Garrus asked. "I'm assuming they were the ones that indicated fertility."

"Correct again. For Salarians it is skin translucency. Wide hips, typically considered to be attractive in females across many species, are meaningless to us. We are born as very small eggs and hence require only a narrow passage of delivery."

"Clinical _and_ animalistic," Shepard repeated under his breath.

"I'm assuming that the more translucent someone's skin is, the younger they are."

Mordin nodded. "Pale, translucent skin, with major arteries barely visible underneath. Those are the signs of a female at her most fertile. Same criteria used to this day, although actual pairing is done through formal contracts."

"And how old are they? Or should I say, how young?"

"Five years."

Shepard raised an eyebrow. "Isn't that a little too young, even for a Salarian?"

"No, of course not. Females on the verge of complete maturity by then. Most of them enter marriage contracts, often paired with the _best_ , wealthiest, smartest, high status male her parents manage to find."

"The operative term being 'on the verge'. If they haven't achieved complete maturity, how can you allow them to get married and start baby making?" the Commander questioned.

"You underestimate the capacity of our five-year-olds."

Garrus nodded. "It's completely legal, Shepard. I have to admit, it surprised me too, back when I first joined C-Sec."

"I see." Shepard and Garrus both returned to their meals again, until this time it was the Commander who spoke up. "You receive any 'proposals' then?"

"Plenty. Do not intend to be arrogant, but my research is well known, I am a high ranking academic and a valued STG officer. I received many offers. None of them worked out."

Shepard could swear there was a hint of _something_ in the doctor's voice. _Melancholy?_ "None?"

"One, almost. There _was_ one girl, one who stood out. Even came close to what your species would call 'being in love'. But…"

"But?"

"Work with STG was becoming more involved, more dangerous. Suicide missions, black ops, assassinations." Mordin cleared his sinuses. "Dirty work. Contract with girl would have complicated things. Unnecessary."

The trio fell silent once more, Mordin in a rare moment of reminiscence, the other two in quiet contemplation. He recognized the uneasiness on Shepard's expression and Garrus' gently fluttering mandibles. "Aware of human and turian cultural notions. Older males mating with pubescent females frowned upon."

"I mean, we understand that Salarians have shorter lifespans compared to us, but…"

"For your species, sexual attraction to older females is not outlawed, correct?" Shepard and Garrus nodded. "Consider the following ethical system. Actions which lead to offspring are good, while those which do not are bad. According to this system, being attracted to young, fertile females would be more ethical than having an affinity for older, less fertile or even infertile females."

"That's true, and that _was_ the case in ancient times for humanity. Turians too, I assume." Garrus gave a _yes_. "Those were the inevitably prevailing ethics, as a result of natural selection. Those who liked kids more than old people were more likely to have their genetic information be carried on through their offspring. But we've advanced beyond that. I'm not a scientist, but I know that it's not _all_ about getting the healthiest offspring anymore."

"Perhaps," Mordin mused, "That could be said to be true on a conscious level, at least, but on a subconscious level?" He had lost Shepard and Garrus, it was clear in their small, beady eyes. "My point is this. Everything is as it should be, because if something were not, it never would have happened."

Garrus' head fell into the palm of his free hand. "Spirits, Mordin. I don't want to discuss the philosophy of free will over dinner."

"You started it." Shepard hadn't realized he had stopped chewing. He resumed.

"No, I didn't. I was just curious about Salarian culture. You _really_ don't miss those chats we had back on the elevators?"

"Don't even start. Besides, were you even listening to what Mordin had to say? _You_ starting the conversation is what led to him talking about," Shepard paused, " _Whatever_ he was talking about. It's all as it should be, Garrus, like, you know, cause and effect, and stuff."

"You sound awfully out of your depth, Commander," Garrus said as he swallowed the last bit of Gardner's _dextro surprise_ , before looking to Mordin. "By the way, weren't you going to eat?"

"Ate earlier," the doctor replied with his trademark grin.


End file.
